your mistake
by Constance Greene
Summary: “Zexion, come look at this! I have armadillo guts all over my hood!” — AxelZexion


Happy **AxelZexion** day! Here's a little AU drabbly-oneshot for you, Akuzeku celebrator or no.

**Disclaimer**; I do not own KH.

your mistake.

He can't remember clearly how it began, or how it ended.

This is hazy: a recollection of a rainy day out on the curb. There he's standing, the ground slick and wet, and his hair that seemed to soak up the colour of the rain as well as its moisture dripping in his face.

How did he even find you?

How could he even see you?

You were hiding.

No; you were waiting for a bus back to your apartment.

And then this tall guy swaggers by; amazingly, he hands him a smile and an umbrella. It wasn't a very happy smile, nor was it grim. He comes up with a word later: _Suggestive. _And the umbrella was definitely not yellow with two black dots and a curved upside-down parenthesis imprinted on its waterproof fabric – nor did it have the provocative silhouette of a naked woman on it.

For some reason unknown to him, the stranger sits down on the bus seat to him.

"Hi."

The man with blue-tinted hair does not respond; instead, he leans towards the window further, pressing his shoulder against the cool glass.

"The name's Axel. Remember it or die." He holds out his hand to the younger man. It's gloved. It isn't even cold outside.

When he makes no move to shake his hand, he begins to withdraw it – and then looks up at the window.

"Holy fuckbombs, look. That building's collapsing before our very eyes."

He can see his emerald green eyes as a reflection in the glass.

"You don't see that every day," He added.

"Yes you do. This is New York."

That's the last time he speaks on the bus.

-- & & --

"I'm from Vermont."

The man followed him out at his stop. _I think I'm being stalked._

"Interesting; you don't appear to be a farm fellow to me." He mutters out of the corner of his mouth, only talking because he's irritated by this man. He has red hair.

"I'm not; whatever made you think that?"

The funny thing was that he was honest ( _but a liar_ ). There was not a hint of sarcasm dripping from his voice like the stuff that smothered the other young man's.

Somehow, he ends up in his apartment.

Then sometime later, his bed.

And gods curse him, but he told him his name afterwards.

-- & & --

The couch was navy blue and had a history of being well-used. Right now, he was laying down on it, peering faintly beneath his arm at the other man that inhabited his house and frequently raided his kitchen.

"When are you going to leave?" His voice was weary.

Axel balances a Coke and chips in his long spidery arms, an awkward acrobat.

"What, Zexion, are you getting tired of me?"

He chose not to reply; the answer was palpable. Instead he takes the opened Coke can from Axel's hold and takes a long swig. Axel grins.

-- & & --

He stares longingly out the water-streaked window.

"Why does it always rain here, Zexion?"

_Because the sky is crying_, his mother used to tell him.

-- & & --

"Since you don't want me here anymore, I'm going to Texas."

"And you think Texas is the answer to all your solutions?"

"Shit, yes. I can run over the state animal without getting arrested. It's just like an extremely violent video game."

He exits the door and is gone for two blessed months.

-- & & --

"Zexion, come look at this! I have armadillo guts all over my hood!"

He's back.

-- & & --

Axel really has to leave.

Zexion can deal with him for only three more weeks, and then his presence is a constant distraction. He tears through the small apartment, demanding attention, sharing his bed and refusing to sleep on the couch. His coats he borrowed reeked of the cigarettes he smoked, and there was always the smell of hair gel clinging to his mouth, his nose, his skin.

And yet, without him, the apartment was strangely empty. And there were spectres.

Axel's presence is clearly / unclearly welcome / unwelcome.

-- & & --

He finds this text message on his cell phone:

"_Do you love me? Y/N."_

He locks the door that night and Axel stands out in the rain for hours before Zexion gives in.

-- & & --

"Oh shit, I dropped my lighter."

There is a crackling noise from within the wastebasket.

Two seconds later, it bursts into flames.

Axel watches, dumbstruck and horrified, as it catches on the shoelace hanging off of the desktop. It slithers up the rope with liquid speed, encircling it with golden-red-orange flame. Then the desk goes up.

It was old anyway.

Zexion's apartment is burning. Figuratively, it's always been burning since Axel moved in.

Said owner was in the kitchen. He runs out and yells at Axel to beat down the flames, while grabbing a towel to smother the lesser sparks.

God forbid he _blows_ on it; it only spreads.

Then Axel moves onto glasses of water.

Somewhere, sirens ring their lullabies.

-- & & --

Zexion is coughing and wheezing, his stomach suffering spasms from the inhalation of smoke. Axel carries him out, breathing easily and unaffected.

"I never told you that I wanted to be a fireman when I was just a kid," He blabbers on as Zexion is struggling between consciousness / unconsciousness. "Then later I just wanted to be an arsonist."

But he swears he didn't set his apartment on fire on purpose. No, that was his home.

The other occupants of the building stood like lost and bedraggled hurricane Katrina victims outside on the grass, evacuees. Axel joins them and puts Zexion down on the grass, where he turns over and begins to retch.

"He's over-dramatic," He explains.

-- & & --

Axel never apologizes, even though it was his mistake.

In truth, it was actually Zexion's.

-- & & --

The couch was the only thing salvaged.

They're in a new apartment on the other side of the city.

"They say this is fireproof. It's been through about ten million fires, but it's never burned down," Axel quotes with smug pride. He sits down at the end of the couch.

Zexion kicks him harshly in the hip.

-- & & --

There's no more time.

Axel thinks they've got all the time.

-- & & --

Axel is packing.

"Where are you going now?"

"California."

"And what is your point of interest in the state?"

"I want to see the mountains."

-- & & --

Axel is gone for two weeks.

Axel is gone for three.

Now six.

-- & & --

Half a year later, Zexion's moved on. He works at a laboratory where they secretly test their chemicals on monkeys and shrews but he doesn't know that.

When he comes home, he sees a crumpled form on his porch. At first he mistakes it as a pile of newspapers.

But then it suddenly talks.

"Water," The thing croaks. "Water."

Being the Good Samaritan that he was, he goes in the room and fetches a cup of water. He tentatively holds it out to the weathered figure, which snatches it out of his hand and gulps the contents down greedily. Zexion is vaguely reminded of Jesus in the desert, who went without food and water for an astounding amount of time.

"Fuck, Zexion. I didn't ask for that crap; I asked for beer."

He's here again. And Zexion does the strangest thing:

He gathers him up in his arms ( Axel has lost a surprising amount of weight and is light as a cloud ) and carries him inside.

-- & & --

Years later, he finds another message on his cellular phone.

"_I think I'll go to Boston."_

And Zexion follows.

author's note.  
It's official – I cannot write an Akuzeku without it being on crack.

The fire and armadillo ( Texas Speedbump! ) ideas were from my friend. She wants me to dedicate this to her, so – this fic is now dedicated to Melissa. XD  
Oh. And 'holy fuckbombs' is her phrase. I think.

Well… I don't know what to think of this. I just hope you enjoyed it, even if it was only a bit.


End file.
